


Because We Know We Can Survive

by TheMipstaz



Series: We Are Still Breathing [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Claudia Stilinski, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Established Relationship, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Stilinski Family Feels, Tattooed Stiles, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles gets a new tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because We Know We Can Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”  
> -Josephine Hart

“‘Damaged people are dangerous’? What does that even mean?”

A wry smile twisted at the corner of Stiles’ mouth, bittersweet in taste. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice the new tattoo with his already impressive arsenal of them— _God, Dad would have a fit_ —but he clearly didn’t give his friends enough credit. Stiles unconsciously rubbed at his bicep, where the words were etched, and tugged his shirt sleeve down enough to cover the tat. Then he just shrugged off Erica’s question. “Nothing.” _To you_.

Erica frowned but, at the reminiscently astringent look in Stiles’ eyes, knew better than to push the obviously sore subject. “Alright, so where do you want the newest shipments of ink to go?”

“Backroom, top shelf,” Stiles rattled off automatically, as though the air hadn’t been charged with unanswered tension just moments ago. As Erica nodded and slowly walked away with one last curious look at him, Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief— _Small mercies_ , he reminded himself—and thanked whatever deity was looking over him for his awesome friends.

Then, after a moment, he thanked his mom as well.

* * *

“‘Damaged people are dangerous’? When did you get that?” Scott tilted his head, eyes roving curiously over the elegant letters.

Sheepishly, Stiles turned to glance at his best friend—and if it happened to hide the words from Scott’s prying eyes at the same time, no one had to know—and tried, “Uh, a while ago?” _The day before Mom and Dad’s anniversary_.

“Dude, you gotta stop inking yourself,” Scott grinned, pushing through the strained moment like the goddamned best friend Stiles could ask for. Which he was, hands down. “Someday you’re gonna regret all those tattoos.”

“Yeah, and someday you’re going to regret all those hours you pined after Allison when Isaac was sitting right under your freaking werewolf nose. Oh wait–”

The bruise Stiles nursed for days afterwards was totally worth watching Scott turn a brilliant shade of red as Isaac walked in. Plus, Stiles was three hundred percent sure Scott had some of the best sex of his life afterwards, so yeah. In short, Stiles was the best bro ever.

* * *

“‘Damaged people are dangerous’? Is that new?” Allison’s tone was innocent and sweet as anything, but her eyes were sharp with worry as they traced over Stiles.

“No, not really,” Stiles responded, doing his best not to waver under her scrutinizing stare. But he needn’t have bothered, because he knew she wouldn’t see anything; the kind of darkness Stiles suffered from was inside, not out. No one ever saw how broken he was, and Stiles planned to keep it like that lest someone cut themselves on his jagged edges.

Lifting his chin an infinitesimal amount, just enough to appear brimming with faux self-confidence, Stiles turned to continue searching through the stacks of folders for his artist portfolio, his newest design clutched in his hand.

He still felt Allison’s perplexed gaze boring a hole in the back of his head.

* * *

Lydia didn’t say a word, but Stiles could practically feel her cool, calculating aura as she took in the obviously new tattoo. Those keen brown eyes never missed anything, for they were as clever as they were beautiful . It was no wonder Stiles had fallen head over heels for them back in highschool.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Stiles challenged, finally turning around completely to face her when he couldn’t stand it anymore. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, not without confronting the problem. Which, admittedly, had never been his forte, but it would continue to fester unless he stopped avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Why should I care if you have one more tattoo?” asked Lydia primly, one elegant eyebrow arched.

Stiles shrugged, feeling a bit foolish as his face flushed. “I don’t know. Everybody else has.”

“None of my business,” Lydia responded shortly, flipping her perfect strawberry blond hair over her shoulder. And that was that.

After a moment of silence, Stiles walked away but still managed to catch the quiet, “But I like it.” A fond smile curled at the corner of his mouth. It was moments like this that Stiles was reminded why Lydia had gone from ‘love of his life’ to ‘best bro after Scott.’

Stiles made a mental note to never anger Allison by admitting that he’d mentally called dibs on her best friend. Even with Scott’s werewolf senses, his body probably wouldn’t be found for months.

* * *

“‘Damaged people are dangerous’?” Derek’s voice was breathless—more of a gasp, really—as his pupils, blown with arousal, drank in the words inked onto his upper arm. He mouthed over the smooth hollow Stiles’ collarbone and his hands ran over the multitude of ink-laden designs decorating Stiles’ body. “You got another one?” His fingers reverently traced the swirling outline of the howling wolf on Stiles’ side before skimming the svelte lines of Japanese kanji painted on his bicep.

“How do you know I haven’t had it?” Stiles retorted, biting back a moan as Derek nipped at his neck before soothing it with loving, open-mouthed kisses. His tongue was doing something fantastic that was making Stiles’ dick twitch with interest as he breathed, “God, Derek, don’t stop.”

“You think I don’t know every one of your tattoos by now?” Derek murmured the words into Stiles pulse. Stiles bucked in his grasp with a bitten back groan as Derek tweaked one of his nipples with a smirk.

“That,” Stiles decided as he ran one hand over the familiar plane of Derek’s chest and tangled his other in Derek’s hair, “should not be as hot as it is.” Pressing his lips along Derek’s sinful jawline, Stiles felt the vibrations of Derek's low chuckle. Stiles leaned up to capture Derek’s lips once more in a languidly heated kiss. It was the complete opposite of the frantic, erratic jerks and presses of their bodies as they both sought and shied away from the overwhelming friction.

Leaning back and dragging Derek with him, Stiles grinned as Derek nestled his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing him in as he bracketed Stiles’ body with his forearms. It was a comforting and familiar sensation.

Later—many mind-numbing, body-melting orgasms later—while they lay tangled together to bask in the afterglow and Derek was beginning to doze, Stiles felt the tears starting to leak against his will and murmured, “Yeah, we’re dangerous because we know we can survive.”

Without opening his eyes, Derek reached back to twine their fingers together and rest them on his stomach, draping Stiles’ arm over his waist as he rolled onto his side. Pulling Stiles’ body more snugly against his back, Derek gave him a reassuring squeeze.

And that spoke more than words ever could.


End file.
